


Jetsam

by Anonymous



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Background Analogical, Chapter Specific Warnings, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression, Disordered Eating, Dissociation, Don't Post To Another Site, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual RemRom, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Happy Ending, King Romulus Headcanon is here, M/M, Meta Discussion Of Creativity/Originality, Morally ambiguous Deceit Sanders, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, OC Orange Side (Complacency), Orange Side (Freeform), Past Character Death, Past Unrequited Demus, Please Be careful, Referenced Religious Intrusive Thoughts, Religious Guilt, Remus has Intrusive Thoughts, Romantic RemRom, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Spoilers for DWIT, Spoilers for Everything Actually, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags May Change, The Creativity Split, The Major Character Death is Romulus, Trying to keep everyone sympathetic, explicit content, for the love of God please read the tags, may be ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23569117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: This is what happens when “What were you willing to give up for him?” becomes “Why did you give him up?”(Or, long ago, after King Romulus was split apart into Roman and Remus, a decision was made by the two to live their lives separate from each other. After the events of "Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts", a new normalcy is reached, and their thoughts on each other begin to change. They seek to find the difference between whoever they were before and who they are now, who is responsible for the Split, and whether or not it matters.)
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Romulus "The King" Sanders (past), background analogical - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Epiphany (Isn't It Always?)

**Author's Note:**

> If you've gotten to this point and haven't read the tags, PLEASE go back and read them to see if this is still something you want to read. This is a RemRom fic. Also, while this isn't unsympathetic-sides, some Sides still do bad things. There will be chapter-specific warnings for these cases.
> 
> Some characters are self-deprecating, and are written from that perspective; this isn't to say that I, the author, believe that the characters are what they say they are.
> 
> If you've read the tags and are still interested, hello and welcome! I hope that you enjoy this fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has a dream of how the Split happened, the Sides discuss creativity itself, and Roman comes to a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Chapter One: implied eating disorder/self-neglect/depression, murder, manipulation into murder (Those last two involve Patton and Deceit), Romulus literally dying, and typical Remus shenanigans. Also, some meta discussion of creativity, general self-doubt, religion mentions, and swearing.

“What are you willing to give up for him?” someone had asked King Romulus at the end.

He responded with only a smile at first. Something in him had broken at the thought of dying today, when his hair was a greasy mess and his robes were wrinkled, and when he still had those unfinished paintings hanging in his room. It probably still had the scent of a crayon box, which now was just childish nonsense for a childish man. His meal was left uneaten on the nightstand, and sweets-wrappers were left under the desk, and the ink was still probably wet on the page, same as always. Everything was _the same._

Catching his reflection in Patton’s glasses, it was all he could do to keep himself from breaking down into tears. At least, he wanted to tell himself that he was going to cry.

(Didn’t people usually feel sad at the end?)

“Everything,” he said simply, “for Thomas.”

“Look, this will save him. I promise, this _will_ save him. I wouldn’t do something like this if it didn’t.”

He blinked. One of his teeth hurt, his pulse was a bit lopsided, and he was vaguely aware that he wanted nothing more than a good bath and a nice feast, or just to feel better, but it wasn't exactly an option. He tried to convince himself that everything he was doing was frantic, that the way that he smiled was simply because he was frightened out of his mind.

“I don’t want to do this," Patton managed to say. "Romulus, don’t go thinking I haven’t prayed for you. Don’t go thinking I haven’t wanted things to be different. Don’t _go_ –” 

“It’s to save Thomas, you said?”

Patton sniffled. Whatever weapon he was holding, its name was eluding him. Romulus, despite knowing there were much more important things to think about, couldn’t help placing the name. It wasn't even something that'd get the job done neatly.

“The Dove said this'd save him,” he murmured.

The Dove. Oh, God, this was about the _Dove,_ and that name wasn't unfamiliar to Romulus. He would have laughed if he didn't know that you had to be solemn during the End... but that person was probably right. For Thomas, for everyone, for whatever would come after.

"The Dove, you said?" He didn't even give Patton a scythe that would be easy to swing. 

"Our thinking's all gone wrong. We're having thoughts we don't want, violent and strange ones, and it all comes from Creativity. I don't want Thomas to be hurt anymore, but I don't want this to happen, either. Don't you understand?"

Before Romulus closed his eyes, he noticed how very small Patton looked, his scythe too big as he huddled up in a cyan cloak. He tried to make himself at peace with that being the last thing he saw. Then the veil of darkness fell, and he could see nothing.

Voice soft, heart softer, Romulus' voice was shaking as he said-

"Do what you must."

A scythe sounded silver, a river of fire opened, and something fell like jetsam to the floor.

Remus found himself staring at the ceiling.

A nightmare. Well, not quite a nightmare. Nightmare for Roman, sure, but Remus observed his dreams with the easy, fun partiality that made up his domains.

The thing was, it wasn't a dream. It was a memory, and he knew it.

Waking up, he stretched himself across the fabric of his bed. He had just meant to take a quick nap, not one that lasted for an hour! An hour that he could’ve spent doing… other things!

He still had memories of Romulus the King, which Roman didn't really have that many of. Occasionally, he'd believe that things really weren't so different now, but he wasn’t _him_ and never could be again. After the Split, the King became two halves of a whole. 'Good' and 'bad' creativity, order and chaos, the Prince and the Duke.

Brothers, someone had suggested, but he couldn’t remember which someone. The label, he presumed, would outgrow them, but it never did; it simply stretched like a stubborn bit of viscera.

Life still had to get done, the Duke reminded himself. No matter how messed up the _everything_ was, it needed to get done.

As he got up, he noticed a letter on the side of his bed. It took one glance at it for him to get himself out the door and into Thomas’ consciousness.

* * *

“Why does this keep _happening?!”_ shouted Thomas to the wall.

The Sides knew that was their cue. One by one, they appeared in their spaces, sans Remus and Deceit, of course. Roman knew, vaguely, that he was doing something else before being called, but for now and for forever, Thomas was the priority.

“Oh, Thomas,” said Patton sadly, “what seems to be the trouble?”

“The trouble is that he has come up with yet another wonderful idea,” said Logan, adjusting his tie, “that has already been done much better by everybody else, and he doesn't see the point in doing it.”

“Well…” Roman gazed at the ground. “I mean, there were other charming princes before I existed. But I’m different from all the others, right?”

“That's true," muttered Virgil. He frowned at his iPod Shuffle before taking out his earbuds. "I don't know why I'm worried about this, and I know that my worrying is upsetting Thomas-"

"I think we're all worried, Virgil," Thomas said, sighing. "It's not just you."

“What is the idea, exactly?” asked Patton.

Logan glanced at the floor before turning to Patton. “Well, the wonderful idea was _going_ to be an in-depth study of a good person who no-one believes, and they sacrifice everything they hold dear to save the world. In it, there's a dystopia that is tired, scared, and full of tele-screens and feel-good pills…”

“But that sounds kind of like that book we read in high school, and that's a classic that lots of people have read,” Virgil managed to say. "And I can't help thinking that whatever we do will just be disappointing. I know it's holding Thomas back, but I can't help but think of it..."

“Well, creativity only makes sense once you realize that no idea is completely 100 percent unique, is it?” asked Logan. "Take this, for instance. This structure is called the _Hero’s Journey._ See, Thomas, the theory is that most stories follow the same basic structure when broken down… and your mind generates ideas on things that it knows about already. It's like trying to think of a new color, it can't be done. An idea usually has to be elaborated on before it can shine.”

"I know," said Roman, "and he knows, too. But still, we want to do something we'll be proud of, and all my ideas are _shit_!"

“They're not shit.. It's just that I want to make sure that nobody’s going to say that we’re just being, you know, unoriginal, and I _know_ I'm overreacting. It's just that...." Virgil shook his head. "I'm sorry, Thomas, I really am, but it does scare me, how people might react."

"It scares me, too," Patton piped up.

Roman groaned. “You know, in times like this–”

A song rang through the apartment.

He recognized the music too well. It was that tune that Remus whistled so often, except very poorly played on a recorder.

“Oh, dear,” muttered Virgil. “This is going to be interesting.”

Thomas, who up until this point had been thoroughly frozen by the fracas, finally managed to say “Wait, what?! Why’s Remus coming?”

Logan sighed. “I sent him the memo a while ago. Look, he _is_ the force behind taboo and revolution, which could inspire you to come up with new ideas. Except this time, Roman will be around. The two Creativities working together can help. Does anyone have any objections?"

“I really don't want to see him right now!" exclaimed Roman.

"Harsh," said Thomas. "Look, I know you don't like Remus-"

"That's not true!"

"Then why that comment?" asked Logan. "None of us do our best work on our own, you know."

Roman didn’t have an answer to that aside from “I didn’t mean it like that”. After he had said that, the recorder music started up again; he didn't even notice that it had stopped.

"Then help us understand," said Virgil. Something about it seemed tired. Pensive. 

Trying to search for words, he managed to find a thought that reflected what he was holding in his mind: _I'm_ _not sure I want you all to understand, I don't even understand._ Before he could actually say that, though, he simply blurted out "Look, I just don't like him" as the expected guest threw his recorder against the wall.

“Be nice to the recorder!” shouted Patton, reaching to go get it.

“Ah, who cares about that?! Someone told _me_ that Thomas had a problem with originality!” shouted Remus. His smile, the sequins glittering in the lamplight, and his general disposition always made a striking picture. This was helped by the fact that he struck a series of poses before settling into his spot next to Roman. "Well, not to worry, Thomato! Your dear old Duke can help!”

“I’m honestly not so sure you can,” said Thomas.

“No, I mean, honestly. What’s so bothersome about the idea? I mean, I thought it could use a few more sensual can-opener photoshoots, but other than that, it’s not the most unoriginal idea ever!”

“It feels that way, though,” murmured Patton. 

“No, I mean, when you distill some of the greatest works of fiction down to just themselves? They sound silly. I mean, _Cinderella_ _._ Life is bad until it isn't. _Pinocchio._ Something that is not alive comes alive. That weird PDF novel we found-"

_“No!”_ everyone shouted, with Patton saying something like "We are _not_ bringing that up today! No way!"

“Aw, y’all are no fun… But you get my point. So, Thomas, what exactly is your idea?”

“Uh…” Thomas sighed. “I wanted to write a dystopia with hope… It's a society where fun things are encouraged, but human connection isn't. Two friends help each other escape, but one promises to go back to help everyone else?”

“And what stories does this sound like?”

“I dunno… _1984, Logan’s Run,_ a few others I can't think of, probably some other stuff they teach us in school that makes everybody vaguely uncomfortable... _”_

“But they’re all so different! I mean, sensual can-opener photo shoots make zero appearances–”

“Please stop bringing that up!” begged Thomas. "That's just so weird, why is it so weird?!"

“Put simply," said Remus, settling on the coffee table, "we can agree that plagiarism is an asshole move, and that doing it is horrible. But is there anything, in all honesty, that makes your plot a ripoff?”

“Uh… there’s a government that watches what people do, and friendship saves the day?”

“Yeah, good job on identifying a _defining aspect of_ dystopia and most movies made for Hallmark,” droned Remus. "And if you want to get even more specific, isn’t that _every_ dystopia? I mean, if you were to hold yourself against every single story where a prince finds someone that he loves, or _every single_ instance of lava consumption... Can someone help me out?”

“It’s an impossible metric you're holding yourself against,” said Roman softly. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yeah! I mean, obviously there’s fucking ripping off. That's awful. But that's different from what we're talking about. You're talking about wanting to live up to something."

“But what if people _think_ he’s ripping it off?” asked Virgil. “What if people see it and think that someone else did it way better, and that we shouldn't even try?”

“I mean, people think wrong things all the time,” mused Patton. “We can’t stop other people thinking.”

“We can,” said Remus flatly. “It's called stabbing.”

“It is _not._ I guess the best we can do is just say the truth about it, and that we didn't mean those coincidences. Or if they mean poorly..." Patton exhaled. "Just try to ignore it?"

Thomas sighed. "But what if it's not good enough?"

"I mean, I know the feeling, but if we keep on getting stuck in this rut, we won't know that," murmured Remus. "You won't be able to edit it, or make it your proudest work... or find out if people love it... if you don't try."

He seemed like he was going to cry, and Roman wasn't sure how he could handle that, but Thomas managed to relax and take a deep breath in. "Why are you being nice?"

"I’m still one of your Sides, silly!" said Remus with a grin.

“But why aren’t you… you know, all… Acting like you were before?”

“Ugh! Thomato, I’m surprised at you, but…" Remus sighed; Roman knew that expression well, that feeling of searching for the right words. "Well, simply put, I want to help. There are other things on my mind besides food and sex and murder! Right, Roman?”

Everyone looked at him.

Shit, if he didn’t say anything, he’d come off as mean… and Roman wasn’t mean! He was friend to all except his enemies, and he would valiantly fight the claim that Remus was simply a libertine! 

“Remus is right!” he shouted, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “There’s more to him than just that. He’s a spirit of taboo, revolution, and chaos alike!”

“Right! And banter to the contrary became unfunny a long time ago. Not to mention that Roman’s here, and usually I don’t go… too awful when he’s around!” Remus grinned. “When he’s around here, Creativity can really work together, so I become a bit less obscene!”

“Does that work the other way around?” asked Thomas. His voice was heavy with sympathy, which certainly wouldn't make Remus feel too great, and Roman knew this and why didn't anyone _else_ know this and why in God's name was this so stressful?

Remus froze. “Uhm… It doesn’t, I don’t think that Roman does that. He wouldn’t just change to what another person wanted him to be.”

“But aren’t you doing that?” asked Patton.

“Look, there is a world of difference between Roman suppressing his personality and me not bringing up unspeakable thoughts about the pasta machine,” said Remus, looking at his nails. “I mean, I’m a blasphemous, incorrigible little shit, which is _bad._ Aren't I?” 

Patton raised a hand to his mouth. "Oh, God, kiddo... Of course you're not bad."

Logan cleared his throat again, trying to call attention. “The reason for the 'weird stuff' is by virtue of who you are, both as a part of Thomas and as yourself. You _are_ the metaphysical representation of all forms of creativity that Thomas associates with morally wrong ideas. At the same time, you are simply Remus, and for what it’s worth, _I_ don’t think ‘Remus’ is all bad. Also, as for the blasphemy thing, we’ve discussed that you aren’t the things you think, haven’t we?” he said, in a voice far too gentle.

Remus let out a breath that he had been holding before turning to everyone, reading their expressions and becoming a bit more calm. However, when he turned to Roman, he had to ask what he thought.

(Did he fail him, because he had to ask?)

“No, of course you're not a bad person,” Roman said, perhaps a little less quickly than he would have liked. “The things you say aren’t always pleasant, what with you being Intrusive Thought and all, but you aren’t bad yourself. And.... I’m sorry you ever thought that way, and that I ever did anything to contribute to you seeing yourself like that. Truly, Remus."

Within a few moments, everyone was back to their usual selves. Remus was coming up with fun and interesting methods that the dystopia would use, Virgil was contributing ideas for worldbuilding and talking with Thomas about how they'd work together to prevent this from holding him back, and Patton and Logan were arguing over how the dystopia would suppress the innately human tendency to connect with other people. Like a moth exhausted and tired, the fluttering tension that the room had carried became still.

For Roman, however, nothing faded away that easily. The way that he gazed at everything that Remus said, the strange banality of what this conversation was of... and something about the idea, something about being good enough or creative enough... A chord was struck with him, something that he didn't like thinking about.

_When did this happen, anyways?_

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the world began to shift, but after everyone had gone and he was back in the palace, he knew the feeling of something being distinctly _different._

"Remus," he managed to force himself to say, when he was already back home and it was already okay. "Thank you."

But it wasn't nearly enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't really written RemRom before, or anything for this fandom, so I'm sorry if this is OOC. Planning on updating sometime later this week.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.


	2. Let's Go Back! (there must be a reason)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus tries to work through his feelings, Roman tries to figure out where everything went wrong, and both discover that something very important is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Chapter Two: Forgetting important parts of life, disconnection, depression, discussion of an eating disorder, and Remus being, well, Remus. This chapter has some really heavy bits when Remus is writing in his diary.  
> Relationship tags have also updated.

The Others lived somewhere secret. Deceit took care to make sure that life could go on without Thomas finding them out, and a part of that was trying to keep them hidden from the Main Sides as much as they could. Everything from how they spoke to where they called ‘home’ was a part of it.

Honestly, Remus didn’t see the point, he thought as he bowed out and sank down. They were all parts of Thomas’ mind, right? Staying away from Roman felt… not something so strong as wrong, but definitely strange, so he made his home right where their domains met.

With a little disappointed sigh, he rose up in the entrance hall.

  
  
  


The fireplace roared with green flame, casting everything in a haze of emerald light. The loud  _ thud  _ of his boots against mahogany and the crackling of the wood echoed through the entrance hall. On the coatstand hung a black crown and his favorite robe, the one with the little embroidered octopus; with some reluctance, he pulled it on.

An alarm on his phone went off, reminding him to eat something. After a lukewarm dinner of mashed potatoes, he brushed his teeth and made his way to his work-desk. It was an absolute mess. A scramble of papers sat there, some Post-its on the walls depicting all sorts of notes: crude doodles, half-baked ideas, reminders to  _ talk to Deceit  _ or  _ tell Thomas about the impromptu laryngectomy–  _ things like that.

A cold gaze focused itself upon him. The one thing that was clear about the situation was that there was no-one else there, only the  _ threat  _ of someone else, so vaguely defined that he wasn’t even sure if it was worth thinking about. He had been so used to this for so long, after all.

Looking over his shoulder and relaxing when there was no-one, he reached into his desk’s drawer, pulling out a journal.

Years ago, the peeling leather binding was unscratched and free of water stains, and it  _ crunch _ ed when he opened it. The paper had been pure white, smooth when he dragged his finger across it, with light blue lines. He had been scared to write in it.

Now, the pages were the color of ivory with no hint of lines, and the binding gave easily, opening as soft and quiet as the first snows. With a frown, he flickered to the last entry and resisted the urge to scribble out some names before going on to the next.

_ Had a horrible nightmare. Romulus again. (Do you think that if you ate a lightbulb it’d shock you, or would it just break your teeth?) It was of what Patton and The Dove did, but the worst part was that I remembered that I was still sick then. Well, Romulus was. Not that it matters, because it's not your diary, is it? _

_ I thought I was being childish, acting like that, but it's not true! I was sick, but no-one helped! No-one. Everyone only cared when I did something wrong (Well, Logan helped, but I'm not supposed to think about that). I hope Roman doesn't remember that, no-one deserves to feel that way.  _

_ Then Thomas had an idea and I don’t know why this is so hard (ha!!! Porn!!! Laugh now). _

_ Long story short: people doubted me and I brought up the fact that I'm not exactly the greatest Side, and well, Roman said sorry for making me feel like that. I know I ought to say sorry, too, but I just can't, I'm ~~scared~~ an asshole. (note: do an adaptation of a medical textbook using beanie babies) _

_ The thing was, Roman said something so nice. He said I was a spirit of taboo and chaos. I'm not the type to fish for praise (who am I kidding, of course I am), but it was supposed to have hurt like nothing else when he said it like he didn't remember. Don't go thinking this means anything, but _

He finished the sentence. It stared back at him.

His breath caught in his throat. The air seemed like honey. There was so much cloying distraction around him, so many delightfully obscene ideas, and it was just way better to focus on that. Better the distraction than the gnawing sense that was biting at his heels.

He couldn’t finish it. Instead, he wrote another ending, after crossing that last phrase out.

_ I’m thinking that I shouldn’t have put that on him to defend me is all.  _

What he needed, he decided, was a good fuck. Or maybe a good drink, or some actual water, or a run out in the woods. 

(What you need is to speak to him, Remus thought, but that definitely wasn't what he needed.)

A warmth spread down his consciousness, like wax spilled down his spine. Anticipation and fear lingered before he put them down. 

The day then had to go on. Remus picked up his quill again.

_ Then again, it's not good for me to be so serious. _

* * *

“I did something wrong,” Roman lamented to Virgil, “I know I did.”

The room had a miasma of fear to it. Virgil never was quite at home anywhere, being the representation of  _ anxiety  _ and all, but here, he was at least comfortable enough to let his guard down and give some advice.

“What exactly did you do wrong? He gave Thomas a push in the right direction, doesn’t mean you have to be comfortable with that.”

“It’s that he had to ask me whether or not I thought he was good. What kind of question is that? What right does he have asking me that, anyways?”

“Oh,  _ Creativity _ , that’s a hell of a statement.” Virgil smiled, letting his pet spider crawl in his hand. “You don't remember the fight?"

There were plenty of memories of fights and arguments and petty sibling bullshit, but that wasn’t exactly relevant. Going further back, to the point where his memories felt like yellowing pages of a book, he remembered sharing a cloak with him or something like that, rainclouds, and the Incident of the Letter…

And before that? It was just the Split. Nothing but a sharp pain down his middle that shifted to his side, a  _ thump  _ to the floor, and when he opened his eyes, he saw someone that completely understood him to his right.

“I don’t know what the fight was. Do _you?"_

“If I did, I’d tell you! I just assumed you had a huge fight or whatever, you know? Typical sibling nonsense. After that, you just stopped talking to each other for a few years, and then after  _ that  _ you fought tooth and nail!”

“Please, Virgil. If you remember anything that might help, it would help a great deal.”

Virgil hummed, putting the spider back in its enclosure. He gazed at the floor for a few moments before finally looking at Roman again.

“I have a memory of it, just one. After the fight… one of you ran off crying, and I don’t remember if I chased after that one or not. I just know that Remus was there, and I asked him if he wanted to talk to you, and…”

“And?”

“And he said no. Word-for-word, he said  _ we lost that chance when we weren’t Romulus anymore _ .”

Virgil stopped speaking for a moment, as if his words turned to honey in his throat, but when he turned to look at Roman, it was with nothing less than desperation. His voice sounded more hollow and more desperate than Roman had ever heard.

“Don't look at me like that!" _Like what?_ "I’m not saying that to be a dick, believe me! I need to be honest, though, Roman, and the truth was that whatever happened– it wasn’t just you. But you have to remember whatever he was talking about. Right?”

Roman was going to say something else, but then his mouth fell shut. He knew perfectly well a way that he might have forgotten.

“You've forgotten," whispered Virgil, and there was such a horrible concern in his voice that Roman had to cut him off.

"No! No, I haven't, I'm just... just something like that was what tore us apart? Really?"

Virgil sighed. "If you want a different perspective... this is just a suggestion, I'm not making you do anything you don't want to... you should talk to Remus. But if you can't, maybe you ought to ask Logan. You know his library."

The Library of the Mind- or Logan's room, really- was a great place to look, true, but... "I'd have to tell him that I want to find out about this, he'd rant to me about wanting to just talk to Remus himself-"

"You know how he and Romulus were!"

_Do I?_ "Oh, right. Sorry, fool hours are on."

"Aren't they always with you, Princey?" But his voice was so kind, it was clear it wasn't said with harm. "I'm just saying, it's worth a try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cricket voice* every fifty years at sundown, cricket projects onto a character and updates a fic
> 
> thank you for reading!


	3. Testing? (Testing!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman, armed with what he's found out from Virgil, seeks to find out what the fight was, what it has to do with Remus, and if there's any way to make things better. Remus talks with Deceit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: discussion of a deceased person, a slight religion mention, casual self-degradation, implied past Demus, and disordered eating patterns. Also, while the Sides here aren't unsympathetic, they still make bad choices (especially Deceit and Patton). Please bear this in mind.  
> Also, Orange Side becomes relevant. I hc his animal as the moth.

Roman did not like change.

Well, to rephrase. He loved change! He was Creativity, after all, but good change, to be precise. Things like being in a Alfred Hitchcoppalucas film? Good change! (Though, of course, _that_ didn't pan out...) Having Virgil hang around more often? Good change!

But this… even after a good night's sleep, he wasn’t sure how he felt about _this_. 

_This isn't how the two of us are meant to be._

_What did I do wrong?_

“Who is it?” asked the Side whose door he was knocking on.

"It's Princey!"

"Oh. Feel free to come in. However, please do not disturb my work unless you want to talk, all right?”

Roman opened the door.

Sometimes, when Roman visited, Logan would change the Library of the Mind to something fun. There was a puppet theatre at one point, a wall filled with storybooks in another, and on Disney Day fourteen years ago, Logan had even recreated the Library from _Beauty and the Beast_. However, when Logan was simply existing in his own space, it took on different appearances, and this one was the most common.

Here, everything that Thomas had ever learned, or that Logan had ever learned (and probably some stuff that they hadn’t) was stored. Warm lights lit up places that weren’t so nice, with scary shelves, ugly carpet, and old books that looked so frustratingly specific that they were useless. It was like the old college library.

Logan himself was sitting in an alcove, across from a quirky indigo lamp and under a suspiciously terrifying painting. The piles of books included such titles as Thomas Sanders' Preferred Video Outlining Methods, Anxiety And You _,_ Making Friends: A Scientific Approach, and Self-Care For Beleaguered Sides _._ He had a page full of notes that included Thomas’ dystopia, making Virgil feel comfortable trying new things, and a systematic relaxation flowchart, color-coded to each Side’s particular methods. At the very corner of all the mess, there sat a single flower made of silk.

He offered a quick smile.

“I like the lamp,” he said before settling down. “Look, are you busy?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I’ll–”

“Let me clarify, sorry. I am busy, but I make it a point to hear out my friends.”

“Well… okay. The cat’s out of the bag.”

Logan bristled, putting down his book before relaxing. “Oh. An idiom meaning... That's right, I remember. I got a text from Virgil."

"What did he say?"

"He said that you were having problems regarding the fight between you and Remus. What's the trouble?"

“To put it mildly, everything… Well, not everything. But after what happened yesterday, I haven’t been feeling my glorious self! I don't know whether or not I’m doing the right thing, and– _woah.”_

Logan’s books and notes changed. The titles now read:  Intrusive Thoughts and You  ,  Creativity and You  ,  Division: A History  ,  Feeling Unlike Your Glorious Self?  , and How To Show You Care _._ The notes, instead of notes on calmness and Thomas’ literary projects, read page numbers that Logan was flipping to, along with a flowchart to ascertain which idea came from which Creativity.

“Oh. I suppose you’ve never seen my thought process before.. Well, here it is.” He gazed down to find that the silk flower had ended up on top of Division _._ “Let me just get rid of that, move it to the side again... There.”

“Do these books know what I’m thinking?” asked Roman sheepishly.

“Of course not. If I think something, or if you say something, that they can help with, they respond. Just like Thomas can remember things at will, I can call back any relevant knowledge. So, was it about what he mentioned earlier?”

“About Remus? Yeah… I feel like after we fought, I should’ve said something quicker? I dunno… I mean, I know he’s gross and whatnot.”

The index for  Division read: _Grossness (Remus’). Manifestation pre-Split, pages 4-342. Types, pages 4-23, 66, 158-175. For more, see Int. Thoughts and You._

“But I mean… he’s my brother. I just want to know why we fought, that's all.”

The index changed again. _Remus Sanders and Roman Sanders: brotherly relationship, pages 73-84, 97-9, 188, 212-299, 567, 1822, cont. into Vol. 2. feud, pages 85-122. mutual dereliction (cause of feud), pages 174-243. See also: Romulus Sanders._

When he got to page 243, he was greeted by blank pages. The paper had yellowed, moth-eaten. Page 244 was its usual cream tone, containing the words _After the incident, Remus Sanders and Roman Sanders interact with considerably more hostility and distance; whether or not this was the intended effect is debated._

“It’s blank.” He went back a few pages, then a few more. “It’s all blank..”

“Go to page 174,” Roman whispered, his voice quieter than he would have liked.

He did. It was simply a blank expanse of old paper that had the scent of old wood pulp and pine, but page 173’s last paragraph was untouched, simply saying _Emotional states and priorities over time varied (see Figure 1.65.3 on page 178), which may have prompted the creativity in question to proceed with the dereliction._

“An abandonment,” Logan murmured.

“A _what?”_

“The Cambridge Dictionary says that a dereliction is a failure to fulfill an obligation to something, Merriam-Webster says it’s an intentional abandonment. If we just find out what happened, then..."

Roman stared at the paragraph. Before he could respond with anything but a gasp, it began to blur before him, and then he snatched the book away and slammed it shut.

“What are you doing? You'll hurt the book!”

"I don't remember anything about the fight."

_"What?!"_

"I know I should've told Virgil, but I didn't... and I don't know- I don't know why it'd even _say_ that I'd do anything like abandon him..."

Roman was greeted with silence until Logan shook his head, handing him a tissue. “Here you go. Clean up.”

“Am I...?”

"You're crying, yes."

"Thanks." He wiped his face.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The scary painting on the wall grabbed Roman’s attention. The pattern, stripes and lattices of grey and indigo, reminded Roman of a storm, but it also looked so vaguely familiar.

“I'm sorry. Truly, I am. So, you don't remember why you fought...? Before you ask, I don't know why, either, so don't bring that up. I'm just trying to understand how you could've forgotten.”

"But why? Shouldn’t the important part be just figuring out how to deal with it?"

“No, Roman, it really isn't. I’m beginning to think it wasn’t unintentional that you forgot."

More silence. The painting was really familiar. Seriously, though, what was that pattern?

“Let’s see,” said Logan after a while, “the index clearly states that Romulus is involved in whatever this is, and Virgil mentioned in the text that Remus said something mentioning him." He showed him the screen. "So, maybe this involves residual memories from him."

"Uh... I don't have many of those either, to be honest.."

"Do you remember fighting with me at all?”

Roman stared. “You _fought_ with him?”

Logan shut his eyes. “I’m taking that as a ‘no’. Do you remember the incident regarding the study room in this library? Or perhaps the painting behind me?"

“No, I don’t even know what it’s of. It looks like…” He had seen some pictures in books at the children’s library, but Thomas had a degree in bioengineering for a reason. He had spent hours studying different samples under a microscope. It really should’ve been instantly familiar. Striated, smooth, cardiac– “Those are cells, right?”

“Indeed they are. You do remember something from our degree. And the split…?”

“Nothing.”

Logan sighed. “You remember at least a _few_ things from Romulus, right?"

“Yeah! Imprisoning the evil dragon-witch, creating an entire civilization from clay–! Just none of the sad stuff you were talking about, Logarithm."

“That's not how it went, but... well, I think that what might have happened is that your memories have been deliberately altered… but who– well, actually, I can think of who–”

“You want me to get my memories back…?” Roman stood up. “Logan, I respect what you do, but I don’t want this solved like that.”

“But–”

 _“Please,_ just trust me. I'd rather do it this way."

Logan didn’t break eye contact with him for a few moments.

“If you want to relearn on your own,” he said finally, “you can borrow this."

He waved his hand. A book appeared on the table.

“I thought you don’t give any of your books to anyone," Roman murmured.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Roman took it in his hands. The man on the cover looked like him in the way that they _all_ looked like Thomas, but he shared some differences with Roman. The face that smiled back at him was immediately familiar from every tapestry and every oil painting in the palace.

 _“The King of the Things We Forgot,”_ read Roman from the spine. _“A History of Romulus and Pre-Split Creativity…_ you’re sure?”

“There's a chapter in there called _Jumping to Conclusions._ I’d rather you not read it. As for everything else, it is distressing, but if it will help, you deserve to know.”

Roman nodded his thanks, putting the book safely in his bag before getting up and walking out. When he was almost halfway to the exit, the harsh lights giving him a headache and the heather-grey noise of the carpet making his eyes water, he turned back to Logan.

“You mentioned you fought with him."

"Before things changed," the man at the desk said. "When Thomas was younger, fantasy and reality were diametrically opposed. But it... it's not like that, not forever. The two may go hand-in-hand, and once we learned that. Well, things were different."

"Did you care for him, if you don't mind me asking?"

When Logan didn't respond right away, Roman tried to cobble together an apology, but when the former cleared his throat, the latter fell silent.

"I... It would best approximate having feelings for someone, yes."

“Thank you. I’ll take good care of it.”

As soon as Roman had stepped out, Logan turned back to the missing pages.

A Side didn't have to directly know something for it to turn up in the Library of the Mind; it simply wouldn't be possible for one person to know everything about every topic they brought up. It couldn't have been simple forgetfulness or a repressed memory. This was a clear case of tampering.

One thing was for certain, Roman wasn't anywhere near concerned enough.

He wrote the names of every Side he knew. The first name he wrote down was _his,_ that long-gone man; within a moment he was crossed out. The next step was a simple chart: “probable”, “possible”, and “unlikely” candidates for whatever was going on with Roman.

The serious speculation began. Obviously Logan wasn’t the one; as Logic, he couldn’t make people forget anything, and unless he was somehow repressing memories that sounded very difficult to forget about _and_ defying his nature as Logic, it was damn near impossible. _Logic: unlikely (with vehemence)._

Roman couldn’t be the one behind this… or maybe he was. The Creativity line had done stranger before, and he had a nasty tendency for escapism and narcissism alike. Perhaps there was something else. _Creativity (welcome): possible._

Remus was too honest. He couldn’t imagine him having anything to do with it. The man wouldn't shut up about porn or violence, so why deprive Roman of knowledge of himself? _Creativity (_ ~~_forbidden_ ~~ _unexplored): unlikely._

Virgil wouldn’t. He just _wouldn’t._ Logan trusted him with his life. _Anxiety: unlikely._

Complacency _sounded_ like he’d be the kind of person to do it, but the Orange Side wasn't always himself. He was wayward Peace, a man who had lost his way once before and simply delighted in losing it more and more. Maybe if someone else had put the little moth up for it, but on his own? Definitely not. _Complacency: possible._

Deceit– now, that was someone far more likely! _Deceit: probable._

The last name was Patton’s.

Logan gazed over at the silk flower on the desk.

How many years had it been there? Ever since the day before the Split, he supposed. Every day, he had passed by it, brushing his fingers against the petals, holding it in his hands and trying to acquaint himself with something he should’ve gotten used to years ago. If they had opened their hearts to each other sooner, if Logan had happened to visit that day a little earlier... he had calculated it many times over, and he knew how much time they had lost to the half-second.

He still counted the hours without him, which made recent events regarding a certain purple Side much more unpleasant. More importantly, he knew who was responsible for those hours lost.

He reached for the flower, undoing something by the ribbon and slipping it on. It needed polishing; Logan noticed a strange ache in his jaw and chest once he realized that he had neglected to clean his ring for that long.

It was an emotional response, really, to mark his name down as he did, but once Logan penned it down, there was no changing it.

_Morality: probable._

~~_Goodness knows he's taken everything else._ ~~

* * *

“Morning, Deceit!” Remus called out happily when he walked into the Meeting Room.

The main Sides had their common house, the Others had their Meeting Room. Less familial, and that was the point. Family was something good and wholesome, and the Others were the parts of Thomas that resented that sort of thing. Well, not so much _resented_ as _couldn't really access,_ but hey, there were a few upsides! Like complete social freedom.... free breakfast... and honestly, Remus was blanking on half of them.

Deceit was sitting in his chair, fiddling with his cane and sipping on some coffee. Across from Remus' plate of raw meat sat an orange placemat with two colourful doughnuts and a plastic cup on it.

“Did you go to the Imagination and fuck any fantasy you could find?” Deceit asked.

“Oh, rude. Nope! Just writing stuff. For fun.” He looked around. “Uh, where’s Alexander? He left his breakfast... and his moths...” 

“ _Complacency_ is taking a while."

Remus looked inside the cup, which was filled with Fanta. Before he could point out the obvious problem, Deceit groaned.

“Look, if you can get that man to eat anything besides sweets, I'll sing your praises from the rooftops. Funny thing is, I heard a story from him yesterday, actually.”

“Oh?” Remus put one of the wayward moths back onto the placemat.

“He told me you panicked in front of the Sides.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a dick, dove, you would’ve done the same.” He reached over, taking one of the snacks from the absent Side’s plate.

Deceit glared. “If you call me 'dove', it's only fair that I call you Romulus. Isn't it?"

“Sorry, sorry. But I mean it! I felt awful, really, and I hate it when they look at me like I’m some kinda piece of shit when I try to help.” He licked the glaze off his fingers.

“We are _Others,_ you know. Our good advice is taken with doubt. For example, I tried to convince him to go to the wedding– I mean, to _not_ go. Oh, you’re not listening. That’s fine, keep not listening..”

“I didn’t have any right to ask Roman if that was how he sees me!”

“And how…?”

“Probably he thinks of me as only some piece-of-shit whore who brings up de Sade and Zola when Thomas would rather be sleeping. And he’s right to think of me that way, after what I did– after what _we_ did…”

Deceit shifted in his seat. “Oh, sure, because that’s exactly what you need, I presume? It _wasn’t_ like it was the best choice for you or anything, or like you two could have–”

“By the saints, any choice that ruined us that much wasn’t worth it! I just… I shouldn’t have brought it up, I don’t know why I’d ask him something like that.”

“It’s _not_ like you Creativities get mushy around people they care about at their own expense,” said Deceit, his Liespeak more obvious than ever. “Or like people do stupid things like being too honest when they want to know something so desperately it infuriates them.”

“Don’t get your dicks in a twist, I just need some advice.”

“Well, what do you think my kind of advice is? I’m going to tell you to lie, to cheat, do what you have to to keep that reputation of yours, even though it’s never worked out. Not for Romulus. Not for you.” Deceit gazed at him with nothing short of pity. “You never care what other people think. Unless it’s him.”

Remus tried to say something, but when the right words wouldn’t come, he simply shook his head.

“This is a pattern with you, you know. This used to happen at first with Logan– let me finish– back when you were still figuring out between Romulus and Remus and all that. You had affection for him, didn’t you?”

The cup got knocked over, Fanta spilling into the tablecloth. Remus heard a shaking voice come from his throat, one that said “I don’t like what you’re implying. I think that you need to take a step back.”

“Fine by me,” Deceit said too gently. “I understand, after everything.” He snapped his fingers. The drink righted itself, and the plate refilled itself.

“When’s Alex coming?”

“I'll wait for him. You don't have to."

“I’m going to have breakfast over there, then.” He hadn’t really eaten much of his meal, and Patton’s cooking always seemed to satisfy in a way little else could.

“Look... if you have to be honest with him, can you be honest with him in a way that actually means something?"

"Like what?"

"You don't have to tell him everything about how you feel," he said, watching the Duke get up from his chair and walk towards the door. "I don't even think _you_ know how you feel. Just... just tell him you care about him, because _that'll_ last until the stars go out. And it helped me, too, you know. When you said that."

"....You still remember?"

Deceit set down his mug of coffee. "There are some things you just shouldn't throw away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day...? It's not a trend, but I got editing for Chapter 3 done, so decided to post earlier than anticipated.  
> The painting that Romulus made for Logan is of cardiac cells.  
> As always, thank you!


End file.
